The Castle on the Hill
by contrite shadow
Summary: Castle seeks solitude, to finish his latest book. Beckett makes a new friend.


The Castle on the Hill

The first-draft deadline for Castle's next book is approaching at the speed of light. And he hasn't written a word since he was injured. Having tried everything else, he is forced to concede that it's time to actually do some work. One thing that has helped in the past is Shelter Island, because there is nothing to distract him. There's not even a phone in the cabin, let alone internet. After making sure it's available for the week, he breaks the good or bad news to everyone who cares, that he'll be unreachable except in an emergency.

Alexis takes the news so well, he almost reconsiders, but remembers to trust her. His mother's only comment is to ask him to bring back some of the French macaroons sold on the island. Beckett has not yet forgiven him for the last prank he pulled; apparently some colleagues still dare to call her "Nikki" occasionally. And the guys couldn't care less. It's only when he calls Clair with the news, that his ego is restored. Because she responds with, "Would it be weird, if I miss you a little?"

"No, I don't think that'd weird at all."

"When are you leaving?"

"Early tomorrow morning. And I got my stitches out today. So it occurred to me, that a small celebration would be appropriate, under the circumstances."

Knowing that any celebration he has in mind will be anything _but_ appropriate makes her smile, and she says, "You're not talking about dinner, are you?"

"No, I'm not talking about dinner." She can hear his smile, as he continues, "Though you should probably eat something, just to keep up your strength."

Laughing, she says, "I'll do that. I've got a long day ahead of me. How about nine o'clock, my place?"

"I'll be there at 8:59." And Clair is somehow certain that, for once, he's not joking.

* * *

><p>After a nightmare day, Clair is running late. She finally heads home, hoping that maybe Castle was joking after all. But he's waiting outside her apartment, and he's even brought flowers. So she feels awful. Trying to juggle her motorcycle helmet and jacket, whilst searching her pockets for her keys, she starts apologizing, "I'm sorry, Rick. I had to go to the Bronx, and there was an accident on Bruckner, so I hit peak-hour coming back and I still had to go to the office, before coming here. I thought that I was never going to get home. I'll just…"<p>

Castle ends her babbling with a lingering kiss. Then takes her jacket and helmet, and hands her the flowers, saying, "I don't mind waiting." Somehow he has her keys, and opens the door. He steps inside, to hang up her gear, and has to come back, because she's still frozen in place outside the door. And then, despite their injuries, they manage to forget about everything except each other.

He's gone, when she wakes up in the morning. The note on the pillow next to her reads only, "Best omelet ever."

* * *

><p>With no one around to complain about his choice, Castle takes the Morgan convertible for a spin. Even stopping for a speeding ticket on the way, he makes good time to the beach house. The lure of the comforts within are tempting. But he's only here to swap vehicles. So he doesn't risk even opening the front door. After a moment's hesitation, he leaves his cellphone in the Morgan, and heads for the south ferry in the Jeep Wrangler.<p>

Once on the island, he stocks up on supplies at the store, and checks that there are no messages, before driving the gravel track to the cabin. Despite his resolution to start work immediately, he spends more time packing away the groceries, and unpacking his suitcase than either task demands. But it's not long before he's sitting before his laptop, with nothing to look at but trees. After a somewhat stilted beginning, he starts writing. Only hunger pangs make him stop, and he realizes that he's been writing for several hours.

* * *

><p>The detectives are catching up on paperwork, when they get a call to a triple-homicide. As they approach the scene, it doesn't seem like cause of death will be a challenge for Lanie. They follow several bloody footsteps up the stairs, to find the first body face-down in the corridor, as if he tried to crawl to safety. What can only be a shotgun wound is evident on the remains of his back. There's a smeared blood trail leading from the body almost to the apartment door, which has a large hole where the lock used to be.<p>

Inside the filthy apartment, the scene is just as bad. A woman is sitting on a sofa, apparently in the process of shooting up, when she died. The needle is beside her, and drug paraphernalia covers the coffee table. If it weren't for the gaping wound in her chest, she could be just resting. The final victim is a young man who almost got to a handgun, concealed in a drawer in the bedroom, before also being shot in the back.

Indeed, it doesn't take Lanie long to confirm the evidence before their eyes. And she travels back to Autopsy with the bodies. The detectives have barely begun looking for clues, when Beckett finds the basinet out of sight behind the bed, and asks a patrolman, "Is the baby already with Protective Services?"

He's surprised to see the basinet, and says, "There was no baby. And we didn't see anything like a diaper bag."

Beckett immediately heads to the kitchen. There are no bottles in the refrigerator. But she finds an empty one amongst the many dishes in the sink, and it looks like it's been there a while. She unties the plastic bag of rubbish that's in the corner of the kitchen. Sure enough, there is the unmistakable odor of dirty diapers. So she says to the officer, "Find out what baby lives here, and put out an Amber Alert."

* * *

><p>Back at the station, Beckett explains to the guys, "The baby is Mary Louise Jackson. She's only six months old. Her parents are Eric and Shiyanne Jackson. He spent some time in Rikers, for assaulting Shiyanne. He settled down a little when Mary was born. But he's schizophrenic, and might be off his medication. Shiyanne left him and started divorce proceedings recently, and is suing for full custody. She lives at the apartment, and we're trying to track her down now. It seems almost certain, that Eric's the killer, and now has Mary. All we can do is look into known associates, and hope that he's looking after the baby."<p>

They haven't finished gathering all the information, when they receive the call that Eric Jackson is holed up in an apartment, with a baby and one adult as hostages. And there's already been shots fired. Beckett calls ESU for a hostage negotiator, to meet them at the scene. They're in the car, when Beckett gets a call, "Detective Beckett? Matt; I'm with Hostage Negotiation. Sorry, but I can't be there inside an hour."

In the background of the call she can hear sirens wailing, and asks, "What do you suggest we do for an hour? He's already killed three people and fired on police, and there's a baby involved."

"Do you have any training in negotiation?"

"Only what they covered in the academy."

After a pause he says, "Are you using an earpiece right now."

"Yeah, I'm driving."

"Do you remember any of the basics?"

"Uh, sure; mirroring, paraphrasing, emotional labeling and so on…don't say no, and don't let them get religious, or focus on death?"

"That'll do. All you have to do is keep him talking, until I get there. Make sure you've got all his information in front of you, and something to write on, and then call me. Then call him on a different cell, and put it on speaker, so I can hear him. Keep your ear piece in, so I can help you out, if you need it. Otherwise I'll try to avoid distracting you, ok?"

Beckett says "Ok", though she feels anything but.

* * *

><p>Outside the apartment block, they can see police snipers deploying to adjacent buildings, and paramedics are standing by. They all don vests, before entering the building. Once inside, they're directed to the third floor, to find tactical officers crowded on the stairs. They point to a hole in a door, and say, "You can see where he is. He did that, when we identified ourselves. Thankfully, no one was in front of the door. As you can hear, the baby is alive, and not happy."<p>

Forcing a calm, that she doesn't really feel, Beckett prepares everything, and calls Matt. All he says is, "Ready?"

Taking a steadying breath, she says, "Ready." With Ryan and Esposito beside her, she dials the apartment from a borrowed cellphone.

Through the hole in the door, they clearly hear someone yelling, "Answer the phone. Answer the fucking phone!"

A man answers, "Yes?"

"Mr. Jackson?"

"No; Jim."

"Ok, Jim. I'm detective Beckett. Is anyone hurt in there?"

"No, no one's hurt. But Eric is pissed as hell."

"I understand that. And I'd like the chance to find out why he's angry. Would you ask Mr. Jackson if he'll speak with me?"

It's obvious that Jackson has been listening, because he takes the phone and says, "Detective Beckett with Homicide?"

"Yes, sir. Do I know you?"

"No, but you know Todd Jenkins, right?"

"Todd Jenkins...uh, yeah, I remember him." It takes her a second to recall the details of the case. And then, avoiding any dangerous words, continues, "Yeah, I worked that case. He's still in Rikers. You know him?"

"He says you were fair. That you treated him like a person."

"He is a person."

"That's not how some of those _bastards_ think. They think we're animals, and should be kept in a cage."

From the earpiece she hears, "He's angry at law enforcement. Feed that, if you need to distract him."

Beckett nods, before realizing that he can't see the movement. The disparity of carrying on separate conversations is already confusing, but she tries to ignore it, and says, "Mr. Jackson, why are we here today?"

"Because that bitch Shiyanne left our daughter with junkies!"

"You're concerned for the safety of your daughter, Mary. Is it Mary, isn't it?"

"Of course I'm fucking concerned. They're going to give her custody, and she left her in that pig-sty!"

"Mr. Jackson, there's no way Mary would be put in such danger, if authorities knew about the drugs."

"I've been telling _authorities_ all along, that she's a junkie whore. But no one will listen."

"I'm listening Mr. Jackson. What is it that you want?"

After several seconds without an answer, it's pretty obvious he hasn't thought that far ahead, so Beckett says, "What do you want for your daughter, Mary?"

"I want her to be safe. I want…" His voice breaks, as if he's on the verge of tears.

Matt says, "Distract him."

After a second, Beckett says, "Mr. Jackson, do you recall the name of Shiyanne's case worker?"

"Some bitch named Malloy. But she wouldn't listen to me, before. There's no way she will now."

"That's ok, Mr. Jackson. I can talk to her for you. What would you like me to say?"

"There's no point, Beckett."

"I'd prefer you use detective, or detective Beckett."

"Fair enough. There's no point, _detective_ Beckett. I'm either going back to Rikers forever, or I'm going to finish it today."

Matt starts to say, "Get him off this…"

But Beckett is already speaking, "Those aren't your only options, Mr. Jackson. We found the drugs at Shiyanne's apartment. So we have proof that she's an unfit mother. I know that you only went there today, because you love your daughter and couldn't see any other way. It's called extenuating circumstances on compassionate grounds. That, and your past history of schizophrenia, means you're much more likely to end up in Psych. It's not great, but it's a lot better than Rikers. I'm not saying it would be easy, but you could maybe even improve enough for Mary to visit you."

"Bullshit!"

Heart pounding, that her bluff has failed, Beckett thinks before saying, "Did Todd Jenkins tell you that I talk bullshit?"

She knows the answer is no, but Jackson is obviously not ready to trust her, and says, "All cops talk bullshit. You're just trying to get me to come out there, so you can take Mary."

Relieved that he's finally used the baby's name, she says, "Mary doesn't sound very happy, Mr. Jackson. Is there anything I can do for her?"

The tone of his voice is finally calming down, as he says, "She's hungry. I brought her bottle, but she's finished it."

Beckett says, "That's ok Mr. Jackson. We can take care of that for you. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Beckett is able to waste quite a bit of time just getting a shopping list from him. By the time the guys return with the baby-care package, Jackson is a lot calmer. Ryan moves to stop Beckett, when she stands up to approach with the bag, and taps his head. Nodding her understanding, she borrows a helmet, and says into the phone, "I've got everything you asked for Mr. Jackson. I'm going to leave it outside the door. So, if you hear something, it's just me, ok?"

He doesn't answer, but she can hear him ordering Jim to check the door. Keeping low, in case he decides to put another hole in the wall, Beckett leaves the bag by the door and retreats a few paces, before saying, "There you go Mr. Jackson." She sees a man open the door and take the bag.

Heading back to the stairs, whilst removing the helmet, Beckett sees a newcomer. Scanning his uniform, she realizes it must be Matt. He's young, for a negotiator; light-brown skin, black hair, dark-brown eyes, and an appropriately serious look on his face. She removes the earpiece and introduces herself, in person, saying, "I don't know how you guys do this. I'm glad you're here."

"I'm afraid you're not done yet. He's obviously responding well to you, so I think it would be better if we leave things as they are. Are you up for that?"

After gathering her courage with a deep breath, Beckett says, "Ok. What next?"

"Do you think he would hurt the baby?"

"No, I don't. And there's something else; the man who just took the bag wasn't Jackson, but he didn't have a shotgun to his head."

Considering her words, Matt asks, "You think he's not a hostage?"

"I dunno. But he didn't look afraid. He looked…smug."

Beckett nearly jumps out of her skin when the cellphone rings. Before she answers it, Matt says, "I'm right here, if it gets too much for you. But you're doing fine."

Mr. Jackson says, "I want Shiyanne here."

Matt is shaking his head, but he needn't bother, as Beckett says, "We're looking for Shiyanne now Mr. Jackson. If we find her, what would you like me to say to her?"

It's a different voice that answers, "Just get the bitch here!"

Beckett makes sure Jackson can't hear her, before saying to Matt, "That wasn't Jackson." To the guys, she says, "Find out who _Jim_ is, and why he might want Shiyanne dead."

* * *

><p>After almost twenty four hours of doing little but write, Castle decides that he deserves a break. He treats himself to a grilled breakfast at the local cafe, and then rents a small boat to spend the day on the water. It's too cold for swimming. But he does catch some striped bass for dinner. By the time he's navigated back, it's dusk. Remembering that it's the danger time for deer crossing the roads, he's careful to keep the speed down. Still, it's not enough to save him, when a buck leaps in front of the car. Knowing that swerving is a bad idea can't keep him from doing just that, and the jeep is sliding sideways on the grass when it slams into a tree.<p>

When he comes to, the pain in his head is enough to dispel all other considerations. Automatically reaching a hand to the site, he can feel blood on the side of his forehead and down his face. There's more blood on the shattered side window, and it occurs to him that loyalty to an older vehicle is perhaps not a good idea. There are several lights dancing on the hill outside the car. After a while, they coalesce into one, unsteady beam of light, and he realizes that someone is walking towards the car by torchlight. But he can't keep his eyes open, and passes out again.

This time, when he wakes up, someone is dragging him out of the car, by the passenger side door. They're not doing very well, and he realizes it's a woman. On seeing that he's awake, she says, "Come on! You've got to get out. I can see flames under the car. Please, help me!" It's an excellent motivational speech, and Castle rouses himself enough to crawl and fall out of the car. All the while wondering why being hit on the head would make the woman's voice sound weird. She doesn't let him rest on the ground, and insists, "Get up. Move!" And practically pushes him up the hill, away from the car.

When he can't walk any further, he drops onto the grass, and looks back at the car. He can see the flames now. Something he read once about car fires being ok, until the flames hit the fuel line drags him to his feet again. The woman is clearly not coping well. She's unsteady on her feet, and is having trouble breathing. She looks ready to pass out, and he wonders if she's drunk. She doesn't resist, when he takes the torch from her slack grip. That close, he can smell the whiskey and hopes that there's some left. Seemingly mesmerized by the burning car, she nevertheless turns and heads up the hill, when he asks, "Your house?"

The house soon comes into view and, even in this light, Castle can see it's beautiful; a contemporary version of a hunting lodge, with huge windows, to soak in the view. The woman is staggering now, and he has to help her up the steps. When she almost collapses inside the door, he guides her to a dining chair, before asking, "Where's the phone?" She looks at him, as if he's speaking a strange language, and mumbles, "No phone." Just then Castle hears the explosion, as the oil fire reaches the fuel, and he realizes that no phone is necessary to bring Emergency Services.

Castle can feel the blood trickling down his face and neck, and asks, "What about a first-aid kit?" Still mumbling, she says, "Sorry, no." Looking around, he spies the whiskey bottle on the table, and wonders just how bad an idea it would be to top concussion with alcohol. He's decided against it, when he sees the pills arranged neatly beside the bottle, along with the envelope, and suddenly the woman's behavior makes sense. She's barely conscious. He grabs her shoulders and shakes her, demanding, "How many pills did you take?" She's almost unintelligible now, and murmurs, "Go 'way."

The effort of trying to work out how to help her, when his head is threatening to explode, sets his stomach churning. He makes it to the sink, before throwing up, and almost cries out at the pain it causes him. Holding his head in both hands, he looks at the woman, and suddenly knows what to do. Washing the blood from his hands, he says, "I'm sorry about this, believe me, I'm sorry." She struggles, but doesn't nearly have the strength to stop him grabbing her in a head-lock, and shoving his fingers down her throat, until she vomits up a nasty combination of fluids and half-dissolved pills.

Understandably, every move Castle makes towards the woman now causes her to hit out at him, with little effect. He forces water down her throat, and she vomits some more. When she's done, he makes her drink again. He's barely got half a glass into her, when he hears the sirens. So he grabs the torch, and heads outside. Firefighters are already working on putting out the blaze. The paramedics spot him and rush towards him. He waves them towards the house, saying, "The woman who lives there; I think she tried to kill herself." And he passes out yet again.

* * *

><p>It's been over two hours, since the stand-off began and Beckett has things mostly under control, though they're no closer to a resolution. Mr. Jackson is content for now, with some pizzas she arranged for him, and the baby is quiet. The guys return, and Ryan says, "<em>Jim<em> is most likely James Carven, Shiyanne's brother, and the lease of this apartment. They're estranged. She was removed from the family home after allegations of abuse against James. He tried to get to her after that, and now has a permanent order of protection against him. Also, he's the registered owner of a SPAS-12 combat shotgun. The judge didn't order his guns taken away, because there wasn't enough evidence to suggest that he'd harm Shiyanne."

Beckett suddenly understands and says, "He's Iago."

When she's met with only blank looks, she elaborates, "From _Othello_."

Matt catches on, and says, "We have to get him out of there."

"Any ideas how? If he is pulling the strings, he won't want to leave, until Jackson or the baby is dead."

"You're right." Matt considers for a while, before saying, "You need to convince Jackson that only releasing Carven will get him what he wants. Maybe focus on the fact that a baby is the only hostage he needs. Do you want me to write a script?"

Beckett thinks about it or a while, before saying, "No, thanks. I think I've got it." She dials the apartment, and Jackson answers, "Yeah?"

"How's everyone doing now Mr. Jackson?"

"Good. Where's Shiyanne?"

"We have her downstairs Mr. Jackson. She's willing to talk to you, but I'll need you to release one of the hostages. If we can get Mary out of there, I promise that I'll keep her safe." Matt gives a thumbs-up.

"Do you think I'm stupid? If I give you Mary, they'll bust in here."

"I give you my word, Mr. Jackson that I won't let that happen."

Shouting loud enough, that she doesn't need the phone to hear him, he says, "You're not getting Mary! Fucking get Shiyanne up here now!" Matt signals that she should calm things down.

"Ok, ok, Mr. Jackson. You don't need to let Mary go. Any hostage will keep my boss happy. I'm sure they'll settle for Jim. How do you feel about that?"

There's a pause of several seconds. Beckett can hear the two men talking, but can't make out what they're saying. Then Mr. Jackson says, "Ok. Jim's coming out. Get Shiyanne up here."

Just before tactical officers move to get Jim safely away, Beckett sees Matt tap one of them on the shoulder, and then make a gesture, as if he's snatching something out of the air. The officer nods, and then edges towards the apartment door. She copies the gesture, asking Matt, "What's this?"

She feels like an idiot when he explains, "Grab him."

Jim cautiously opens the door and steps out. He's no longer looking smug, but he doesn't look worried either. The door is locked after him. Within seconds, Jackson is back on the phone, and asks, "Ok, where's Shiyanne?"

Beckett stalls, "We'll just get Jim clear first Mr. Jackson. How's Mary doing?"

"She's fine. She's sleeping."

Jim is escorted to officers waiting below. Beckett doesn't see the scene, but she can imagine his surprise when they cuff him. To Jackson, she says, "That's good. I'm glad she's feeling better." Suddenly at a loss, Beckett mutes the phone, and asks Matt, "What now?"

"Ask him if it was Jim's idea. But without making Jackson sound like a puppet. You're doing great."

Back on the phone, Beckett says, "Mr. Jackson, did Jim tell you where Shiyanne is living?"

He's quiet for so long, she wonders if he's heard her, and says, "Yeah, he told me where she was, and what she was doing to Mary."

"And it was Jim who gave you the shotgun, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it's his. He said I might need it, if there were guns at the apartment." He pauses for a while, then continues, "You know, I didn't mean for it to go like that. I just got so mad, when I saw Mary like that. She was screaming, and covered in shit. They didn't even care."

"I understand Mr. Jackson. Any father would feel the same way. You're just trying to do the right thing, by Mary." Unsure of herself, Beckett hesitates, and then says, "You know, it's not too late to do the right thing now. Sounds like it was kind of Jim's fault, what happened today. A judge pays attention to that sort of thing. And I think you know that I'd make sure of it."

"But what about Mary?"

"I think you know that I'd make sure of her too. I promise."

When there's no answer for several seconds, Beckett looks to Matt for help. He signals that she should wait. There's the click of the phone hanging up, and Beckett is suddenly terrified. Then Mr. Jackson shouts, "I want to come out. Detective Beckett, can you hear me?"

"Yes, Mr. Jackson. Make sure the safety is on, then open the door and slide the shotgun out, ok?"

"Ok. I'm doing that now."

The tactical officers are already edging into position. Beckett sees the shotgun slide into the hallway. Then there's the crack of gunfire from somewhere above them, and Jackson howls in pain. She turns to Matt, horrified at the betrayal. But he assures her, "Bean bag rounds. In case he has another gun."

The sound of the shot is ringing in the air, when the officers burst in and subdue Jackson. Beckett is still in shock, when he's hauled past her, in handcuffs. On seeing her, he asks, "Detective Beckett?" She can only nod in response, and he says, "You promised, ok?"

"Yes, Eric. I promise. She'll be fine."

* * *

><p>Castle wakes to some sadist shining a torch in his eyes. He clamps down on their arm, to make it stop, and a man says, "Easy buddy. Just looking for signs of life. Was there anyone in the car with you?"<p>

"No, just me…the woman; is she ok?"

"She's being attended to now. Do you know where you are?"

"My name is Rick. It's…Monday night. I have no idea what time. And we're just off Deer Park Lane, on Shelter Island, ok?"

"Ok. But you'd better come with us, to the hospital. I've put a dressing on the scalp wound. It won't need stitches, but it might leave a scar. When you get up, do it slowly."

He realizes it's good advice, when sitting up makes him dizzy again. But he makes it to the ambulance, without losing consciousness. After gratefully accepting a couple of Tylenol, he's trying to hold his head in place, when the woman is brought in on a stretcher. She's semi-conscious. On seeing Castle, she looks afraid and starts struggling. So he says, "I'll ride up front."

In a few seconds, a paramedic jumps in the driver's seat and heads to the hospital. And then warily asks, "Why is she afraid of you?"

"She doesn't have a first-aid kit, so I stuck my fingers down her throat, to get rid of some of the pills she'd swallowed."

"Then you've probably saved her life. Though, I don't suppose she'll thank you for it."

"Probably not. Look, do I really need to go to Emergency? Other than my head trying to split open, I feel ok."

"You can sign the release forms, if you wish. But, you definitely have a concussion. So, if you refuse treatment, you could be dead by this time tomorrow."

"Then I would be happy to accompany you to the hospital. Thanks."

Four hours later, the doctor is satisfied that Castle isn't about to drop dead. And the police seem happy with his description of the accident, even though they didn't find the animal. So he's finally released, with several pages of what not to do when you have a concussion. It's almost midnight, when the cab drops him off at the cabin. So he falls into bed, leaving the problem of who to call, until the morning.

* * *

><p>The building is clearing, leaving only the detectives and Matt. Beckett is still a little shaken, and says to him, "Seriously, I don't know how you do that every day. I'd rather be shot at."<p>

He laughs and says, "You did just fine. In fact, if you get tired of Homicide, I think you have a new career. How did you know to insist on him calling you detective?"

Ryan coughs "Bossy!", and then looks innocent, when Beckett glares at him. Esposito nudges his friend, to acknowledge his courage.

Matt chuckles, and says, "Well, it was a good idea. Jackson already had some respect for you, so making him use your title, reminded him of that. Seriously, we could use you at ESU. We don't have nearly enough people, who can do what you did today."

"No thanks, I already have a job. But it's been a pleasure working with you, Matt." And she offers her hand.

He accepts it, saying, "No problem." He holds her hand just a second longer than propriety dictates. It's enough to get her attention, and she's looking right at him, when he says, "And, if playing is something you ever do, I'm available for that too."

"I..uh..umm…"

Smiling, he says, "Well, if you change your mind, you have my number. See you around, detective."

After he's gone, Esposito is the one who dares, "Eloquently put, Beckett."

And Ryan says, "Yeah, way to sweep him off his feet."

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

><p>Castle's head is still thumping, when the too-bright morning sun wakes him. But none of the other symptoms have persisted. And he's starving, after missing out on dinner. So he's looking forward to another grilled breakfast. He actually starts searching for his car keys, before remembering that he no longer has a vehicle, and no phone to call a cab. So he appeases the worst of the hunger pangs with a slice of toast, and then put a few things in a backpack, before starting the two hour trek into town.<p>

It looks like being another lovely day, even if the air is a little crisp right now. Although he can't see the ocean from here, just the smell of it is enough to put him in a good mood. His leg is aching a little, but not enough to hamper his stride. Every now and then, he sees a deer. But they pose little threat to him, now that he's on foot. Thirty minutes of walking works better than Tylenol, and he's feeling almost himself again. Getting out his ever-present notebook, he entertains himself by trying to recall what was in the Jeep, so he'll know what to buy.

He hears the SUV behind him, long before he sees it. As it approaches he puts his hand out, for a ride, just in case. He's in luck. They pull up beside him. He opens the door, saying, "Thanks. I didn't fancy walking all the way into town, and I…" It's the woman from last night. And, from the scared look on her face, she's definitely recognized him. Recovering quickly, he says, "I know it's a small island, but this is ridiculous. Uh, do you still want to give me a ride?" After hesitating, she nods.

After a few seconds of incredibly awkward silence, Castle remembers his manners, and says, "Thanks for this. I'm Rick."

"Allyson."

It's hardly an encouraging start, but he persists, saying, "Thankyou." At her confused look, he wonders how much she can remember, and elaborates, "For pulling me out of a burning vehicle, before it exploded?"

"Oh, that. You're welcome."

Castle is already wishing that he hadn't got in the car, as more awkward silence follows. And it occurs to him, that writing conversations is a lot easier than living them. But then Allyson says, "You're Richard Castle; the author."

Wondering if he's in a car with a crazy, suicidal fan, Castle admits, "Yes."

He finally gets to see what she looks like when she smiles, and says, "My husband loved your books. He even bothered to get the last one autographed by you."

"It's entirely possible. You haven't read them?"

"No. Sorry."

"Oh, no, that's fine. I actually never know what to say, when someone starts talking about one of the books, like it happened yesterday."

It's clear that she understands what he means, when she asks, "Because you've already put it behind you?"

"Exactly."

Allyson is obviously feeling more comfortable, and says, "Clearly, I need some more work in that area. Or you wouldn't have had to rescue _me_ last night." Thinking she's finished speaking, he's about to reply, when she adds, "Thank you."

"Well, you're also welcome." After hesitating, he says, "I thought you'd hate me about now."

"No. It's not your fault. The three ladies and I are not friends."

Realizing that she's talking about fate, his curiosity is piqued. But it hardly seems appropriate to ask for details. So he decides to ask Wendy, at the café instead. She knows everything and everyone on the island. He and Allyson are now comfortable enough to make small talk, for the rest of the journey. After dropping him off at the café, she says, "I'll be back around noon. If you haven't found a replacement car, I can give you a ride back?"

"Thanks. And thanks again, for saving my life."

She only smiles, and says, "Nice to meet you, Rick."

* * *

><p>Already salivating, in anticipation of breakfast, he heads into the café. Wendy sees him and asks, "Same again, Rick?"<p>

Slapping his hand on the counter, to indicate his enthusiasm, he echoes, "Same again."

After yelling his order to her husband, Stan, she slides the local paper in front of him, saying, "Looks like you had an interesting night."

Even the headline is enough to ruin Castle's morning, "_Mystery Writer in Mystery Crash_." But there's also a photo of the burnt-out shell of his car. Castle says, "Oh, hell. If it's news here, it might make it to the city. I have to call my daughter. Would you cancel the order, please?"

Taking pity on him, Wendy puts a phone on the counter, and says, "Call who you need to. I'll go tell Stan, to hold your order for a few minutes." Smiling his thanks, Castle calls Alexis. There's no answer at the apartment, so he leaves the message, "Hi, sweetie. I'm fine. But I had a little car accident. Good news is; you can stop nagging me to get a new Jeep. I'll see you soon. Love you."

Next, he calls Clair. He can hear that she's on the motorbike. At the sound of his voice, she says, "Hang on a second, Rick. I'm on the road." After a few seconds, he hears the motorbike engine stop, though the traffic noise is still audible, and she says, "Hey, you. Missing me already?"

"I didn't think that I was, until just now." After an unsteady breath, he continues, "But that's not why I'm calling. Sometimes stuff that happens to me, goes through a warped filter, and then makes it into the papers. So, if you hear that I was mutilated in a fiery car crash, it's a lie, ok?"

Suddenly afraid, despite the fact that he sounds all right, she asks, "So what's not a lie?"

"Oh, a deer jumped in front of me, and I totaled my car, but I'm fine, honestly." Thinking of that filter, he continues, "Also, just in case you read anything about me and a woman, it's not what you think, ok?"

"What do I think?"

"Ok, obviously, I can't know what you'd think. But she helped me out last night, and she gave me a ride this morning. But…there's no reason to be worried, or jealous."

"Rick, have I done anything to make you think that I'm the jealous type?"

Of course, she's right, and he says, "Sorry. Just being careful. Sometimes my actions are misconstrued, because I'm…"

Clair interrupts, to say, "An incorrigible flirt?"

"Well, that's not the most flattering description, but yeah."

"Well, I appreciate your concern, but I trust you." He's quiet for so long, that she asks, "Rick? You there?"

Even over the noise of the constant flow of traffic, she can hear him sigh, and he says, "Yeah, I'm here. Though now I'm wishing that I weren't."

Almost weakening, at the plea in his voice, Clair makes a decision, and says, "Get back to work, you big baby. Sooner you finish, the sooner you can come back."

She's snapped him out of his mood, and he says, "Yes ma'am. I'll see you on Sunday. Stay safe."

"Yeah, you too." After hanging up, it's a while before she trusts her limbs enough to rejoin the traffic.

* * *

><p>After some hard work, by everyone, Beckett knows more of the story. Forensics found evidence of James Carven in Shiyanne Jackson's apartment, and uniformed officers discovered that he'd been there many times, when Shiyanne was out. It's a serious violation of the protection order, so he's going to jail, one way or another. And they may be able to add felony, if they can prove any intent to manipulate Eric Jackson into murder. For once, Beckett is content to let other detectives handle the interrogation.<p>

They track down Shiyanne. She'd been at Central Booking since the early hours of the morning, after being picked up for solicitation, and drug possession. So there's no way she'll get custody of the baby. Beckett remembers to call CPS to check on Mary, and ask that she be kept in the loop on the baby's progress. Then she gets a message to Eric Jackson, to let him know that Mary is well cared for.

Towards the end of their shift, the detectives have solved three murders and saved three lives. So the captain lets them leave early. Beckett says goodnight to the guys, and heads to the gym, for a stress-relief workout. It's not enough. Still on edge, she puts in some time at the firing range. Finally, she's ready to admit what's really making her nervous, and calls Matt. Unfortunately, it's a recording, "You've called Matt Blood. If it's an emergency, dial 911. Otherwise, leave a message."

Wondering if that can really be his surname; she leaves a message of her own, "Hi, Matt. It's Beckett…Kate. I finished early, and I was wondering…"

She's interrupted by Matt, "Kate. Hi. Look, I'm kind of in the middle of something. Can I call you back?"

A little stunned, she says, "Sure." And he's gone.

Wondering if she could have possibly misinterpreted his comment earlier, Beckett is still debating whether or not to search his name online, when he calls back, "Kate? Sorry about that. I'm in Brooklyn. Some idiot spent three days on meth, and then leapt naked out his apartment window. Apparently God told him to do it."

"He's dead?"

"No, the lucky bastard snagged on telephone wires...I guess God put them there."

She laughs, and asks, "He's ok?"

"Yeah, he's in custody now. You finished early?"

"Yep, partly thanks to you. So I was wondering, if…maybe dinner, when you're done?"

"I'm done now, and I'm starving. When and where?"

"If you're already in Brooklyn, what about the bar & grill on Prospect Park. You know it?"

"Sure, if you don't mind that I'm in uniform."

Remembering her first impression of him, she says, "No, I don't mind. I'll meet you there." After a second she asks, "Is your name really Blood?"

He laughs, and says, "I know. It's a terrible name for a negotiator, isn't it? I would have gone into Forensics, but I was always better at sports, than science."

"Well, I suppose you could always become a serial killer. There's still time."

"There is. Hey, I'm gonna hang up now. Because it occurs to me, that we could be doing this in person. I'll see you soon." And he's gone again.

He's hung up on her twice in a matter of minutes. And Beckett is back to being nervous again, when she realizes that he took time out of a negotiation to call her back. So she's smiling, as she heads to Brooklyn.

* * *

><p>With his stomach finally satisfied, and his curiosity about his mystery savior equally sated, Castle fills most of his list at the store, and organizes a rental car. Unfortunately, it has to come from the mainland, and won't arrive until tomorrow. So he's waiting outside the café, eating an ice-cream cone when Allyson pulls up beside him. She leans over and opens the passenger door, then asks, "No car?"<p>

"Not until tomorrow. So I'll take you up on your offer, if it's still ok?"

"Actually, I was thinking that I owe you lunch. I promise that I've cleaned the dining room."

He smiles and gets in the car, saying, "You don't owe me anything. But I'd be happy to have lunch with you."

They chat about nothing in particular, until Castle finds the courage to say, "You know, you don't really seem depressed."

"I'm not."

"But…"

"I'm only depressed first thing every morning, when I wake up and remember that they're dead. The rest of the time I'm just sad." At his shocked look, she continues, "You've just come from the café. Don't pretend that Wendy didn't tell you everything, except my social security number."

"Actually, she knows that too. But she's keeping it to herself."

She smiles, and agrees, "You're probably right." And then she says, "I'm not going to do it again, in case you're worried. It took me months to find the courage to attempt it at all. Then several more weeks of preparation, to take care of every single detail, because I knew that I'd never be brave enough to try again, if I failed. And then I heard your car smash against the tree." Smiling, she says, "You ruined everything."

Also smiling, Castle says, "Sorry."

"No, you're not."

"No, I'm not."

* * *

><p>By daylight, Allyson's house is even more spectacular. He'd never noticed it before, because it's concealed from the road by trees, no doubt deliberately. And he can now see the lake nearby. It's too new to be a Frank Lloyd Wright, but he wonders if the architect was inspired by that legend. He's paused, to take in the experience, and Allyson says, "John designed it."<p>

"It's beautiful."

Pleased with his answer, she explains, "He already had this picture in his head, when we met. But it was seven years before he trusted the vision enough to implement it." After pausing, she adds, "He'd practically been living here for weeks, towards the end of the build, because he wanted everything to be perfect. That weekend was to be the first time we'd stay in it, as a family."

"No wonder you're not crazy about the three sisters."

"Well, it would appear that I'm caught in their _adamant, inescapable devices. _So I might as well make the best of it. Come on, the view from inside is even better."

* * *

><p>After a leisurely dinner, at the most popular cop-bar in Brooklyn, Beckett is finally relaxed. She's discovered that Matt is older than he looks, closer to her age, than she'd originally thought. His surname comes from his father's Welsh heritage, and his tan complexion from his EgyptianFilipino mother. He has two brothers, and one sister, all older than him, though he's the only one of his siblings in law enforcement. And he chose that career after first entering NYU, on a baseball scholarship. He likes animals, but doesn't own a pet. Rather scarily, despite being fairly trim, he can eat an entire T-bone steak meal, and still have room for dessert. His drink of choice is Samuel Adams black, but he will refuse another drink, when he's driving. And he loves his job, almost as much as she loves being a detective. They mostly talk about work, though not exclusively. The conversation has cycled back to their meeting this morning, and Matt comments, "You know, I was sure you were never going to call me. I almost apologized for that terrible line I used on you, but there didn't seem much point, once it was out there."

"It was pretty awful, but it did get my attention. I wasn't even sure if I'd heard you right."

"I was going to go with something like "I enjoyed being in your ear", but…see, that look is exactly why I didn't."

Laughing, she says, "Yeah; that would have been worse."

"I just didn't want to leave and say nothing. I'd heard of you, and then I saw you at that memorial service, last week. And I promised myself that, if I ever met you, I'd ask you out." After a pause, he adds, "Though, in my head, this was a leisurely meeting, where I'd have time to impress you. But, of course, it was a fleeting moment between one crazy and the next. So I got desperate."

"I'm here."

His face lights up, making him look even younger, and he says, "Yes, you are." After sipping his beer, and contemplating something, he says, "I work, at least, fifty hours a week. I'm guessing you're the same?"

She nods, and says, "At least."

"So you know how difficult it is for me to sustain a relationship. I've actually given up asking out civilians. They just don't cope well when I cancel a date…again, to spend hours talking a deranged person off a building." With a smile, he continues, "And there are not nearly enough hot, conscientious detectives on the force. So I've not even thought of dating anyone for a while."

Not really worried, Beckett asks, "Are you dumping me already?"

"No, no. In fact; the opposite. I…I was actually wondering, if we could…"

"Skip a few steps?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, that she doesn't appear insulted, he says, "Yes. Exactly. But, I'd also be happy with taking our time…just not sure how to create that time."

After considering for long enough, that Matt is sure he's blown it, Beckett says, "I think maybe you're right. But, you haven't helped me at all with this bottle of wine, so I don't think skipping steps is a good idea tonight, ok?"

Nodding, he says, "That's fine, just fine." After another relieved sigh, he comments, "I'm not complaining. I really am happy to leave things as they are, but talking a naked guy off telephone wires was easier than this."

Beckett grins, and says, "But he probably won't sleep with you, on the second date." For the first time, since they met, he's speechless.

* * *

><p>Allyson wasn't exaggerating; the view from her house is probably the best on the island. The interior is worth looking at too. It's an open plan living area, with the kitchen blending into the dining area. Beyond a row of wooden support columns is a large living area, that he didn't see last time he was here. The entire, vast space is completely dominated by a massive stone fireplace. She won't let Castle help prepare lunch. So, after receiving permission to explore, he peruses the bookshelf. He quickly spots his books, and remembers that her husband liked them. They look like they've been read a few times. There are other mystery, and adventure novels, plus several children's books on the lower shelves. But there are also classics from British and American literature, prompting him to ask, "Do you work?"<p>

"Assistant Professor of English, at Long Island University. But I'm taking a break."

"Have you considered that being at work might help you recover?"

"I'm considering it now. I miss it."

"Is that why you weren't with your family that day? Just tell me to shut up, if I ask too much."

"I'll do that. Yes, I was grading papers. The plan was for John to pick up the kids from school, and I'd meet them here when I finished."

"How did you find out, what had happened?"

"I was still at work..."

Allyson is silent for so long, that Castle asks, "Too much?"

"No. My therapist recommends talking about it. That's where I was this morning. I mentioned you. I hope that's ok?" After Castle just shrugs, she continues, "I said that you were John's favorite author, and she asked how I felt about meeting you. I told her that you terrified me."

Surprised, Castle says, "I'm not sure I've ever done that before. How am I terrifying?"

"She asked me that too…I don't know. But I'll work it out. Anyway, lunch is ready. Let's eat outside, ok?"

"Sounds good." And it is; quiche Lorraine, served with salad, followed by fruit compote and clotted cream. Even the coffee is good. Leaning back in his chair, with a satisfied sigh, Castle says, "Thankyou."

Allyson smiles, and says, "It's just lunch."

"Other than Stan's breakfasts, I've been living on sandwiches since I got here Saturday night. So this is the best meal I've had in three days."

"Why are you living on sandwiches? You must be able to afford to eat out."

"I came here to write. Once I hit my stride, I don't like to stop for much."

"Except for rescuing grieving widows?"

He smiles, and says, "There's always time for grieving widows." She's looking a little upset, so he asks, "What is it?"

"I've not used the word before, but I guess it's applicable; widow…I don't like it."

"Sorry. But you started it."

"Yes." She considers something, and then says, "I know what it is now; why you terrify me."

Once again, she just stops talking. So he prompts, "And?"

"You remind me, not of John, but…when I'm with you I remember, that he wouldn't like it that someone had to assault me in order to keep me from killing myself. He wouldn't like that at all."

Knowing that there's a chance she'll recognize the quote, he says, "_Sad true lover never find my grave, to weep there."_

Castle is horrified, when she immediately starts sobbing. It doesn't feel right to embrace her, or even hold her hand. Instead, he takes the dirty dishes and heads inside. He's finishing the washing up, when she joins him, and says, "Thankyou."

"For making you cry?"

With a slight smile, she says, "You can't be that obtuse. You must know that crying means something has changed. And, considering that last night you had your fingers down my throat, to keep me alive, any change is a good thing."

"Oh. Then I'm glad that I made you bawl like a bellicose baby."

And Castle finally gets to hear her laugh.

* * *

><p>Beckett is feeling the effects of the wine, and can't stifle a yawn. Matt notices, and says, "Time to go?"<p>

"Yeah, sorry."

Whilst catching their waiter's eye, to motion for the check, he says, "No, that's fine. I'll give you a ride?"

"Ok. But I meant what I said earlier, I…"

"I know. It's just a ride." Eyes shining, he adds, "Though I'll need to know where you live, for the second date."

Smiling, she says, "I shouldn't have said that, should I?"

"No, I think it's great. You should always use that line. Though I'm not sure how I'm going to concentrate on work, until I see you next."

After the waiter has brought their bill, she says, "Do you think there's any point trying to organize a date?"

"Nope. One or both of us will have to cancel anyway." They're quiet, as they put money on the table. Matt can see that Beckett is considering something. He smiles, and says, "You're wavering aren't you? You want me now, don't you?"

Glaring at him, with no malice whatsoever, she says, "Don't push your luck."

Putting on his jacket, he can't help smiling, as he says, "I'm going to drive you to your apartment, and you're going to kiss me goodnight, then hesitate, before asking me in."

Beckett is also getting ready to leave, and also smiling, when she replies, "Seriously, back off! Before I start wavering on the whole second date idea."

Pretending that she's serious, he says, "You didn't let me finish; I would, of course, have to politely refuse your persistent attempts to seduce me, because you've had most of a bottle of wine, and are not responsible for your actions. Better?"

"Much."

* * *

><p>After they've finished cleaning up, Allyson drives Castle back to his cabin. Before getting out of the car, he says, "The rental will be in town tomorrow morning. I can walk, but I was wondering…"<p>

"Of course, that'll be fine. And, unless you're content with sandwiches, I'd enjoy having lunch with you, while you're here. It'll give me something to do, until I go back to work. You could come by the house, or I could deliver?"

"Delivered lunch sounds good; if you're sure it's ok." He hesitates, before saying, "Look, I don't really know you very well…so I'm not sure...I'm not single, is what I'm trying to say."

She smiles, and says, "Neither am I. It's just lunch, Rick."

Relieved that's over, he says, "Ok. Thanks. I'll see you in the morning; any time."

Castle watches her drive away, wondering if she's really going to be ok. Then he shrugs, as there's nothing he can do about it, anyway. He dumps the backpack on the sofa, and heads to the laptop. It's a while before he can forget about Allyson. But he's soon absorbed in the story, and only stops when it's getting dark. After a short break, and another sandwich, he writes some more.

* * *

><p>Matt drives at a reasonably sedate pace to Beckett's apartment, and she wonders if he's reluctant for the evening to end. Feeling the same reluctance, she doesn't complain. He walks her to the door. Remembering his earlier jest, she's suddenly unsure about kissing him at all, even though she wants to, just in case she's tempted to do something she'll regret. Either he's sensed her hesitation, or really isn't interested, because he kisses her on the cheek, and says, "Goodnight, Kate. This is the most fun I've had working, or playing, for a long time. I'll talk to you soon."<p>

And he's already leaving, when she manages, "Yeah, 'night."

A little stunned at being left, literally standing in the corridor, she goes inside to get ready for bed. After a day that's been hell on her nerves, the evil butterflies are back in her stomach, when the message alert on her phone beeps. It's Matt, and reads, "So, when are you free for a second date?"

* * *

><p>The next morning, Castle is so busy writing that he's forgotten all about picking up the rental car, when he hears Allyson's SUV approaching. So he quickly pulls on a shirt, and jumps in her car. She's definitely looking less grief-stricken, and brightens further on seeing him. They're comfortable together now, so long as Castle doesn't push her too much. After making sure that he now has a car, Allyson drops him in town, excusing herself to get their lunch ready. There are no messages, so Castle heads back to the cabin and chains himself to the typewriter again.<p>

So, once again, he's forgotten all about Allyson visiting, when she arrives with lunch. He spends a few moments making the cabin look less like a hibernating bear's cave, and goes out to greet her. Just seeing the picnic hamper she's carrying, is enough to make his stomach demand food. Rushing to take it from her, he says, "I don't have an outdoor dining area, barely an indoor dining area, for that matter. But there are some convenient logs around the back, which make excellent seats, if you want to eat outside again?"

Smiling at his enthusiasm, she says, "Sounds good."

Today it's mimosas with chickpea salad, followed by macaroons, washed down with homemade lemonade. When he asks if she made the macaroons, she confesses, "No. They're so good here, that it doesn't seem worth competing."

"Yeah, my mother has asked me to bring some home."

Confused, she asks, "You live with your mother?"

"No. She lives with me…most of the time. She got into some trouble, so I took her in. So far we're both survived the experience."

"Why do I get the feeling that you really don't mind?"

He smiles, and says, "Well, living with my mother _and_ my daughter can make dating tricky. But, yeah, I love it." After a second he says, "You don't have anyone now, do you?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, you're smart, and considerate. So it seems unlikely that you'd be cruel enough to plan suicide if there were anyone who was relying on you…and you note; it was addressed "To whom it may concern", which is just about the saddest words I've ever seen." At the look on her face he backtracks, "Again, just tell me to shut up, if I've gone too far."

"No, it's ok." Wincing, she says, "Did you read the note?"

"No. I wouldn't have anyway. But, at the time, just staying conscious was more than I could manage."

"Oh yeah, I'd forgotten. It seems like ages ago, doesn't it?" After a while she says, "I have friends who would miss me, but no one close enough that they'd immediately notice my absence. John and the girls were my family."

Worried that he's pushed too hard, Castle says, "You should meet my girlfriend. I think you two would have a lot to talk about."

"Another wounded bird?" At his confusion, she says, "You rescued your mother, you saved me, and it sounds like you saved your girlfriend too." At the look on his face, she says, "And I'm guessing there are others." Echoing his earlier refrain, she adds, "If I've gone too far, just tell me to shut up."

He smiles, and says, "Shut up."

* * *

><p>Beckett is finishing up after one of the worst days she's had since joining the force. Even the guys were subdued, as they left. She feels polluted by what they've seen today, and is wondering if an hour at the gym will get rid of the stench, when she gets a message from Matt, "Are you free this evening?"<p>

Knowing that he's expecting more from her than she's willing to give, she texts back, "Sorry. Not good company tonight."

Within seconds, he's called her back, asking, "What's wrong?"

"Just a bad day. I'm heading to the gym, to see if I can make it go away. But we'll get together soon, ok?"

"What gym?"

"The boxing gym, on East 28th Street. Why?"

"I'll meet you there."

* * *

><p>When Beckett arrives at the gym, it's practically deserted, and Matt is already suiting up for sparring. He doesn't even pause taping his hands, and says, "I hope you've written your will, detective, because you're about to die in the ring."<p>

It's exactly what she needs, and Beckett starts getting ready, saying, "The only thing that's going to happen, is you limping out of here with a face like a pizza."

Once in the ring, it's evident that they're a good physical match, being almost the same height. For a few minutes they just test each other with tentative jabs. Then Beckett lands one on his ribs that gets his attention. It's obvious he's been waiting for her to set the pace, because he immediately counters with a combination of blows, one of which makes it through her guard and glances off the headgear.

After twenty minutes, with neither of them landing a solid blow, Matt ducks under her right cross and hooks into her midriff hard enough to knock the wind out of her. She holds up a glove in surrender, gasping for air. He spits out the mouth guard and says, "You right? I'm sorry, Kate. I got carried away." She quickly recovers, and says, "I'm fine. But I think that'll do for tonight, or one of us won't make it to work tomorrow."

As they're getting out of all the protective gear, Matt grins and says, "You know; you hit like a girl."

Beckett smiles at his jibe, and asks, "So, you had a good time then?"

"I did. Any time you need a sparring partner, I'd be happy to pummel you senseless." And then he asks, "Do you want a ride home?" At the look of indecision on her face, he says, "This isn't necessarily a date; just two colleagues who had a bad day."

It hadn't even occurred to Beckett, that Matt might have needed this just as much as she did. She makes a decision, and says, "If the two colleagues share a shower at my place, is it a date then?"

* * *

><p>By Friday evening, fuelled by Allyson's cooking, Castle has finished the first draft. After packing up, he drives to her place, to say goodbye. She meets him at the door, invites him in, and says, "You're leaving." He's wondering how she can know, when she points out, "You're clean-shaven. I know you didn't bother with that for me."<p>

Embarrassed, at being so easily read, he rubs his chin, saying, "Yeah, I was thinking of surprising Clair. She's not expecting me until Sunday. But I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye…maybe over a cup of coffee?"

She's already putting the kettle on, and nods to the living room, saying, "Oh, I started reading your books. And I wish that I'd listened to John now; they're really quite entertaining, for that sort of book."

Castle laughs, and says, "I don't think that I'll hire you as my publicist, but thanks…I think."

"Oh, sorry. It's just…"

"That you're an intellectual snob?"

She smiles, and says, "I guess so. Sorry."

Waving it away, he says, "That's fine." And then continues, "Then you might like my parting gift. I'll be right back." After retrieving the manuscript from the car, he hands it to her, saying, "It's only a first draft. So they'll butcher it, before it's published. But, with your permission, I'd like to keep the dedication; word-for-word."

Allyson reads it, looks at him for verification, and reads aloud, "_To Al, without whom this book could never have been written, and to Betty; for loving Al." _

She's unable to speak, so Castle explains, "I saw what I'd written for him, when I was snooping through your books. Then I remembered him from the book-signing last year. I'd assumed he was gay, when he asked me to autograph the book to Al. While I was writing he said that his wife is Al, and that you call him Betty; like the song. I thought it was a cute story, but what I remember most is how his eyes shone when he talked about you." After giving her a few seconds, he asks, "So, is it ok?"

Smiling through tears, she says, "It's wonderful, thankyou."

Relieved, he then asks, "And you're going to be ok?"

Beaming, she says, "Yes, I'm going to be ok."

The End


End file.
